


Wrecking Ball

by Takigawa Aki (akanoaki)



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, M/M, TYL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:00:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3728146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akanoaki/pseuds/Takigawa%20Aki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He came in like a wrecking ball.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrecking Ball

**Author's Note:**

> Graciously beta'd by luminescentashes

"Yeah, it's right here." Skimming through the stack of folders in his arms, Tsuna was uncomfortably aware of eyes on him. They were going to be late leaving for the airport if they took too long, but time wasn't crunched and the meeting hadn't gone on past its time slot, so he chafed a little at the purse of Reborn's lips when he set the folders aside and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I think that one must still be in the conference room. _I'll get it,"_ he added quickly, cutting off Hayato before he could take off back down the hall.

His USB was still in the smartboard, too, if he remembered correctly, so maybe this was a little blessing. He didn't walk too fast, his own moderate rebellion at the sense of urgency that Hayato had exuded, and by the time he'd made his way upstairs and was heading down the main corridor the hairs at the nape of his neck were prickling. Dino didn't mind them visiting on private airlines, but it was Tsuna's insistence that kept them on public, and thus time-restrictive, flights. It was a tragedy to waste all the money for jet fuel unnecessarily. Besides, too much luxury made him feel guilty. First class was one thing—an entire jet lined with velvet? That was sinful.

By the time he made it upstairs he was tugging at his sleeves. Maybe Hayato was only rushing him because he'd been late for the last flight a month ago, but Reborn didn't seem particularly worried (not that he was capable of it to begin with), so they ought to be fine. What was his anxiety for? It made his stomach tighten in some sort of dreadful anticipation, and his steps came slower, quieter on the tile. The conference room's west door was cracked open.

Had someone stayed behind? He and Hayato had been the first to leave, so it wasn't unreasonable for a couple others to be shooting the breeze. There was a muffled sound of movement and a footstep from the other side of the door.

 _My nerves are getting the best of me._ His heart pounded as though he was headed into a trap, but how would one have been set so soon?

The deep thrum of a body hitting the wall reverberated through the plaster, making him shock. _"Ah—!"_

That was Mukuro's voice.

 _Those assholes are fighting in the conference room._ Again. He'd made it clear a thousand times that only the training rooms were allowed after several million yen in damages had accrued in the less rugged areas of the Japanese Vongola base...multiple times. He'd _thought_ they were doing better about it after dipping into their personal expenses to make repairs.

But who had ever really expected that to last? There was a loud gasp, prompting him to reach for the door handle with thunder on his mind, only to pause instinctually as his fingers brushed the metal. Where were the crashes? He didn't hear taunting, laughter. There were no guttural growls or weapon on weapon. He didn't feel the tingling sensation of flames being used nearby or the intuition of danger. Another gasp, this one louder, and he pulled the cracked door open ever so slowly, just until he could peer through the gap.

There was Hibari Kyouya, wide back to him, standing over the table as though he was hovering above something. Tension was in his shoulders, straining at the silk shirt like it was holding him back. Carefully, Tsuna shifted to see what he was looking at, only to blanch—Hibari's body bucked violently and Mukuro yelped, pinned down to the table and pressed back against him. Fighting after all, then...?

They seemed deep in it, though, which meant interrupting might be dangerous. He tilted his head and spread the gap another centimetre so that he could see both of them; heat rose to his cheeks like an inferno as his field of vision widened. Mukuro wasn't pushing, was rather arching his back high, fingers clawing the mahogany tabletop as Hibari leaned over him and—what was he doing? He couldn't see, only that the cloud's head was over Mukuro's shoulder and then Mukuro was shuddering.

Were they...? Numb with shock, he reeled back a step. It had to be a misunderstanding.

So he looked in again. Now he could tell that Hibari's hips were against the back of Mukuro's, and they were moving, but both seemed to be fully clothed. There. It was some kind of prank. He forced a breath of relief that he didn't really feel and considered opening the door, but even staring at the handle, he couldn't quite bid his hand to grab it. Hibari's hands were more cooperative, though, judging by the way that one dug fingertips into Mukuro's visible hip. And what was he...? Mukuro's pocket?

A fight over something Mukuro had...?

No. The floor felt like it would fall out from under him at the sight of the shiny square that Hibari pulled out of the mist's pocket, followed by a small bottle. He carried those? Or had they planned this?

He hadn't realised he had a hand over his mouth until it hid an indignant gasp, and then there was the sound of metal and a zipper and Hibari was ripping Mukuro's leather pants down off his hips to trap his thighs instead. The heavy, breathy sound that Mukuro made was sin to hear. Fingerprints were dark red on his white hips.

Tsuna covered his face in a desperate attempt to clear his mind, but the sound of another zipper was too much to allow anything but confusion. Hibari's hand was between them, arm unmoving, but there were slick, wet sounds and a low purr from Mukuro that all of a sudden had heat prickling where there had been nerves before. Was he...? Tsuna couldn't see, but he knew—Hibari had fingers _in_ him, wet from that bottle, one finger? Two? They were moving, he could hear it, and he could see Mukuro's fingers curling on the table and hear his panting turn needy. What Tsuna could see of his hip had flushed, was probably hot to the touch, which made those fingerprints stand out starkly in a way that made his mouth go dry.

Mukuro's voice was a deep bass, but this was something else entirely. He'd never thought voices could _do_ that. Somehow that low, purring velvet had tilted into this shaky whimper that begged better than words ever could, and then it was hitching and murmuring strained moans. He could imagine what his face would look like—brows furrowed, red spattered across his cheeks, lips pursed into a tiny "o" and desire in his eyes.

Of course he'd had thoughts about Mukuro before, dirty thoughts, but nothing like this.

And Hibari, the first sound from him. It was a low chuckle that rumbled from deep in his chest. Even behind him, Tsuna could see in his mind's eye the flash of white teeth, the glimmer in his eyes, maybe the way the muscles in his shoulders flexed as he pushed Mukuro down harder against the table with one hand and tore the condom open with a bite. It disappeared between them again with Hibari's other hand. He was fully clothed, slacks all the way up around his hips, but they fell a little slack in a way that made Tsuna realise they were undone.

He was going to be sick. No, that wasn't nausea, but it was something like a stone in the base of his stomach.

Another wet sound. He could see Mukuro quiver. "That's enough," Mukuro murred, breathless, pressing back towards the cloud without ever really moving. Apparently whatever that meant was fine, because Hibari shifted in a way that got a loud, keening moan, and Mukuro's head tilted back. His hips quaked. It sounded wet again, but this time a little muffled, and Hibari's hips were pressing slowly and his hands were holding Mukuro's hips down and _he was inside him, that was Hibari's cock going inside him that he could hear and that was why Mukuro was shaking and mewling and whispering something he couldn't understand—_

It cut off in a _clap_ and a yowl, and he saw how Hibari's hips had snapped forward suddenly and Mukuro had gone taut and _maybe_ that was a tear that Tsuna saw fall on the tabletop. Hibari didn't waste time. He drew back in one fluid motion and rocked forward again, so hard that their skin slapped together sharply, and Mukuro howled and raised his hips even further, though Tsuna wouldn't have thought it was possible.

He couldn't see it, but he could _hear_ it, not just the shuffling of movement but the slick sounds of latex and wet skin and sucking noises and hips slamming together, not to mention Hibari's little murmurs and Mukuro's gasping moans with every thrust that occasionally arced high into yelps that sounded dizzying. Hibari was bent over him again, pressed against his back, and then it was their shirts rustling with the friction and Mukuro's howl. Had he bitten him? He seemed latched on, probably licking, probably raising welts and teasing them. Tsuna realised he was imagining the feeling of Hibari's tongue lathing skin caught between his teeth, rubbing a bruise in like ink into a tattoo.

It occurred to him vaguely that he wasn't sure if he was turned on at the thought of being Hibari or Mukuro, and for some reason, that didn't really bother him. He was so hard in his slacks, though, that it was difficult not to rub without even thinking about it or shift his hips so he'd press tighter in the fabric of his boxers, and that was so lewd he could almost be disgusted at himself. Almost.

But they were still moving, and then Mukuro was moving, too, and even though he couldn't see, Tsuna knew by the way Hibari's hips shifted that he'd rocked them side to side and Mukuro was whimpering desperate pleasure. Hibari's arms were wrapped around his waist. Where they went was anyone's guess, but he was imagining it and didn’t even realise that it was his mind's eye filling in the vision of one of Hibari's hands wrapped around Mukuro's weeping cock while he slid up under Mukuro's shirt and tweaked his nipple with the other; judging by the way that Mukuro bucked and jerked lewdly on the tabletop, Tsuna flushed, realising that he was probably right.

There was a bead of sweat on the back of Hibari's neck. It rolled down from his nape to disappear under his collar, leaving a shining trail behind. He wanted to lick it.

If anything, the sounds seemed to have gotten wetter. Mukuro was louder, shuddering every couple of thrusts, and at some point Hibari had left long red welts down his thigh and over the curve of his ass. His fingers dug in there again, kneading flesh roughly as though he was trying to squeeze the softness from it. _"Kyouya,"_ high, gasped, thick with tension and suddenly snapping into a yell that felt like it went on forever. Hibari was thrusting harder—the sounds were louder. Hibari was moaning low satisfaction, and Mukuro arched back against him and shook, clawing at the table.

The yell tapered off; Hibari slowed, then paused, stroking the bruises he'd made. Mukuro hadn't gone as limp as Tsuna expected, though he trembled; instead, he turned back and Hibari pulled away and _they can't be done this soon?_ but no, Hibari was just using his hips to flip him over, leather pants holding his legs together while the cloud manhandled them up and hooked both of Mukuro’s knees over a shoulder. Boneless, Mukuro let him, helping to hold himself at the edge of the table.

He was nudging in again. Tsuna broke into a sweat. Mukuro pulled his shirt up to bare his stomach, visible only in flashes between Hibari's torso and his arm, and he could catch little glimpses of Mukuro's face open-mouthed and moaning, of his tongue wetting his lips, of the pink heat that tinged his cheeks, but then he couldn't see it because Hibari was over him and they were _kissing._ It was rough, needy; Mukuro's fingers fisted in Hibari's hair, their lips moving together—a flash of tongue—and Mukuro moaning into his mouth. What were they doing with their tongues? Something good, if Hibari's mutter was any indication, and then he was standing straight and Tsuna could see Mukuro's lips were swollen and there was a drop of blood on the corner of his mouth, but he must have liked it because he was grinning breathlessly and digging his fingers into Hibari's shoulders through his shirt and Hibari was rocking his hips again with his head tilted back.

Was it normal to keep going after they'd come? Was it _physically_ normal? No, Hibari hadn't come, though, only Mukuro, and there was nothing to indicate that they were surprised. For some reason that made Tsuna's hips quake.

With his legs together, Mukuro had to be tight. Maybe it even hurt to have Hibari inside him, but judging by the way that he writhed when fingernails were dug into his skin, he wouldn't have minded. The sex would be a mess, slick and glistening wet and probably with his own semen on his stomach, and the idea of seeing him with his shirt pulled up to his ribs and pants down to his thighs was so incredibly erotic that Tsuna wondered if he should have sat down. He shouldn't have been there in the first place, but he needed that USB—no, screw the USB, it wasn't that important and neither was the file. It was morbid, shameful curiosity that kept him rooted to the spot. Belatedly he realised he'd been palming his bulge and guiltily slid his hands into his pockets.

The pace was picking up again. Mukuro's feet bounced with each thrust, and they wiggled with pleasure. Hibari's cock rammed in hard, then wrenched back out against the desperate, pulling pressure—he could just imagine it, condom clinging hard to his girth and fluid dripping down Hibari's balls before they slapped Mukuro's ass with a particularly hard thrust—

"'S a secon..." Mukuro's voice was slurred and husky, and it took a moment for Hibari to pause and, obviously reluctant, to pull back. Mukuro was reluctant, too, by the disappointed moan he gave, but he'd unhooked his knees off of Hibari and Tsuna could hear long zippers, and then a tall black boot hit the carpet. Hibari was on the other one quickly and it was only a moment before its twin joined it, and for a moment Tsuna thought they'd begin again but there was the sound of leather on leather and a relieved sigh and he saw Mukuro's pants join the shoes.

And _then_ they started again. Long legs wrapped around Hibari's waist tightly, muscles taut and sonorously flexing, toes curled—even his ankles arched. The rhythm had become fluid, Hibari's thrusts rolling. It must have been good, because Mukuro's short, gasping moans turned into one, broken with breaths but made of a single note that rose and quivered and rose again only to be muffled against Hibari's mouth. The noises were more lewd than the sight by far. All Tsuna could see was Hibari's back, Mukuro's legs wrapped around it, brief looks at the mist's torso and face that were as skewed by the angle as by the person between them. That was good, though, because otherwise he'd be afraid to be seen.

His fingernails dug into his palms. He was skulking in a doorway, watching two men have sex and fantasising about how it felt, legitimately worrying about being caught. How much further was there to fall? Shoulders low in shame, he tried to pivot to coax himself to go, but if he returned without the file then Hayato would come looking for it and there was no way they'd ever get to the flight because there would be a terrible battle on their hands—or worse, he'd do just what Tsuna was doing, and maybe that thought was a little erotic, too.

He'd turned his head away, but drawn by some inexorable force he peered into the room again, this time his brows furrowing. Rather than Hibari's waist, Mukuro's knees were hooked over his shoulders, and _how could he do that?_ but somehow Hibari was still bent over all the way and they were kissing again. He'd heard of flexibility, but that was something else. Hibari panted into Mukuro's mouth, moaned, dragged fingernails across Mukuro's ass; he seemed to have bitten, too, because Mukuro yelped and pressed up against him, and even through Hibari's shirt he had to have left scratches on his back.

He was moving faster, hardly pressing back before ramming himself against Mukuro again, and the desperate mewls he earned sounded as agonised as they did pleased. Mukuro's hands made claws again, dug hard into Hibari's shoulders. He arched, his legs writhing, the muscles of his thighs flexing taut; he trembled, yowled, yelled what might have been a name. The hungry noise that Hibari made rooted Tsuna to the spot, drained the colour from him. It was a low growl that went on for miles, deep and guttural and more animal than human, a sound made of claws and teeth that ached to rip into flesh.

Mukuro's yowl tapered, lowered, turned into a hum, and finally only panting. It took a moment but Tsuna realised the wet noises had slowed, then that they had stopped with a final whisper of friction, and that the only things that were left were gasped breaths and clumsy kisses. Blood rushed back to his face, this time hard enough to make him dizzy. They'd _come_ , both of them, and more than that, that was a sound Hibari made as he _came,_ that terrifying, primal growl was his _orgasm._ Tsuna's knees shook but muttered words broke into his thoughts and horrified him again.

"The condom broke." Hibari was pulling back, had his head down. His shoulders rose and fell as he caught his breath and his neck glistened with sweat. His hair was a mess.

Mukuro's reply was a moment later, slow and lazy like his stretch, and contentment dripped from his voice like honey. "I know."

Hibari paused, tilted his head. "You like it anyway." It wasn't a question.

It took a beat for the meaning to sink in, then Tsuna rocked back on his heels and held both hands over his face. He could hear a zipper being done and then a belt, but only one, and for some reason he was looking in again before he realised what he was doing. He was going to be late for the flight. Maybe Hayato would come looking anytime now, maybe he'd find Tsuna watching his own guardians like some pervert, and worst of all, even with a jacket maybe he'd see the uncomfortably large bulge in his slacks and there would be disgust in his eyes.

"You're the one who keeps breaking them." Mukuro's voice sounded like laughter. He stretched a languorous arm towards Hibari, who'd retreated a few feet away, and Hibari came close again to let it wrap around his back and pull him in. A long-fingered hand ran through his hair, smoothing it down to a semblance of order, and Tsuna heard the sound of a lingering kiss. For some reason, that was as embarrassing the rest, witnessing a gentle moment between such dangerous people.

Hibari's hands disappeared from Tsuna's view and there was a muffled murmur of pleasure. They couldn't be planning to go _again_? Mukuro was picked up by the hips and flipped onto his stomach on the table again, this time with knees up on the edge, and he peered back curiously at Hibari as he crossed his arms on the table and raised his ass high again. The table was too tall for that to be a good place, and Hibari couldn't possibly be lewd enough to just want to look (but then again today was full of surprises)...

"Hm?" Hibari bent at the waist, leaned in, and— _Oh god oh god oh god,_ Mukuro made a surprised sound and moaned, stretched his arms out across the table in front of him like a cat, pressed back. He was _licking,_ the sex was wet and messy and the condom had broken and he was licking it and now Tsuna could see both of Mukuro's hips and all the bruises and scratches forming on them, the marks on his thighs from the leather pants, could see how far he spread his legs to push back against Hibari's tongue as he murmured appreciation. Hibari's fingers were digging into his cheeks again, palming his ass on either side of his head, probably spreading him wide for his mouth, the same mouth that bit and sucked and made that horrifyingly sexual growl as he came.

He could imagine it, too. The edges of Hibari's teeth touching sensitive flesh, lips taut, his tongue darting across Mukuro's bruised skin and tracing the abused, probably painfully sensitive ring of his sphincter, rubbing it flat and pressing inside to caress soft, hot bruises that tightened around it and sucked at it, asking for more. Mukuro purred softly, his breath catching, but it was almost drowned out by a loud slurping sound that made Tsuna lightheaded, and Hibari straightened again. His hands wandered up Mukuro's back.

"I took responsibility." Why did he sound so _smug?_ "The rest is too deep to reach. You want me to leave it anyway."

Mukuro's sigh sounded like sex incarnate. He pressed up into the touch a moment before rolling onto his side along the edge of the table, humming his satisfaction even as he nipped at Hibari's fingers while they moved to brush sweaty hair off of his forehead. "Kiss me." He leaned up on an elbow, reached with the other arm, and brought Hibari down by his tie for an open-mouthed kiss that went for ages. Hibari purred, apparently happy to share the taste of his own cum, and withdrew with a quiet chuckle to move towards the other door.

"See you at dinner." He closed it behind him. _It was lucky he used the other exit._

But Mukuro would leave soon, too. Tsuna gulped and looked back down the empty corridor, wondering if he'd be heard if he left now. Would he go the other way, too? No, he should get out of here anyway, say he couldn't find the files, say it didn't matter, they could print another copy, no big deal—

His eyes met Mukuro's. Still lying on his side, he was totally on display. The deep red bitemarks that littered his neck and shoulders stood out starkly against his pale skin. His lips were swollen and dark and even his nipples were visible through his white shirt, but that didn't matter as much as the fact that it was up around his ribs and there was a thin, shining sheen of sweat on his bare stomach that almost masked the splash of cum over his (pierced) navel, and his hips and legs were totally bare and smooth and hairless and even _there_ he was shaved and _oh my god all of those piercings—_

But that didn't matter, because his eyes had met _Mukuro's_ , and Mukuro was looking at him.

It was slow, a quirk of his lips that spread into a grin and sent a shock down his spine. Mukuro smiled.

Tsuna took off down the corridor like a shot, hissing at the laughter behind him. They were going to miss the plane, but they'd take a private jet, because he wasn't going to stay in Japan another second.

 


End file.
